One in a Million
by Tennotsukai no Saiten
Summary: It is this one world, where Sawada Tsunayoshi is born the Sky Arcobaleno's son, that is the universe's salvation. He is the miracle child, the lone star in a world of choking darkness; he is the one-in-a-million child that will save us all. AU
1. To Protect

**Prologue – To Protect**

One in a Million

A fourteen year old Aria strode into her mother's office, mug of tea in hand. She glanced sternly at her mother around a stack of neatly typed papers awaiting the official stamp and signature, carefully lowering the steaming drink onto a coaster on the table.

"Ah, thank you dear," murmured Luche distractedly as her eyes slid from side to side scanning the document before her. With a flourish she signed in the allotted space before smacking the stamp onto the ink pad and pressing the insignia atop the top left corner in black.

"Mother, you should be resting," Aria chided gently, picking up the mug and insistently pressing the tea into her mom's hands. "Drink that and go lay down for a bit; you're due any day now, so work can wait."

"I know I should rest, Aria, but if I miss even a day of paperwork, we're going to fall much too behind our schedule. It's already hectic as it is." Luche sighed.

She looked down, patting her baby bump. "Besides, he doesn't mind." She giggled a bit.

"Mom, of course the baby doesn't mind, but that doesn't mean you should tire yourself out." Giglio Nero's teenage heiress gently pushed her mother out of the chair behind the crowded desk, sitting down in Luche's place.

"I'll take care of the paperwork," Aria declared firmly. Luche smiled at her daughter fondly. "If you say so, darling." She left the office, sipping at her drink, as Aria began to concentrate on the papers.

As soon as her slippered feet reached the smooth laminate floors of the hall, Luche's smile faded into a slight, absent curl of her lips. She finished her drink, placing the mug on the floor before her bedroom door and making for the base's exit.

She slipped into her white flats and grabbed her Giglio Nero coat and a packed bag from a rack on the side. Greeting the chauffeur with a smile, she slid into the sleek black car and instructed the driver to go to the Arcobaleno's meeting spot.

Luche watched the scenery outside, not noticing the worried glances her chauffeur sent her through the rear view window. Wind-swayed trees blended into harsh gray buildings and pleasant little houses as she watched, blurring rapidly until the car slid to a stop.

Thanking her driver who opened her door, she made her way into the abandoned warehouse. In the dimmed light exuded by a bare bulb swinging over a round wooden table, a group of figures were seen looking in Luche's direction.

"Luche. You're here," a fedora-wearing man stated, glancing blandly at her from beneath the shadow of his hat. Despite the apparent nonchalance, Luche could tell he was worried. What he had really meant was, _'Luche, why did you come?'_

Luche smiled apologetically, seeing that same question in each pair of eyes. Wordlessly, she took her seat at the table, immediately unpacking the contents of her bag: Some cookies and a variety of drinks.

A thermos of espresso, a sports drink, oolong tea. Strawberry milk for Viper, water for Verde, and some juice for Skull. The milk tea for herself was put back into the bag. "Anyone want cookies?" She set the box of homemade cookies upon the table.

As the others picked up their respective drinks, a solemn conversation was picked up of the Man with the Iron Hat. "We should be wary of him," Reborn was concluding, when Luche doubled over in pain.

"Luche?" Lal rushed over to the woman, tough indifference and seemingly perpetual scowl gone. "Someone call an ambulance!" Reborn flipped open his cell phone, dialing the number quickly. He gave the address of the warehouse sharply, finishing the call and immediately contacting Aria.

"Damnit, Mother!" Aria was heard cursing through the phone. "Damn the ambulance, I'm sending people over right now!" Shouted commands were heard as Aria moved away from the phone, barking orders to some Family members.

Reborn whistled lowly as he listened in. "That's some girl you got there." He turned to the addressed woman being aided by Lal. "Hang in there, Luche."

* * *

As Luche was carried into a room, a small crowd of Giglio Nero's doctors hurrying in behind, Aria turned to Reborn. "Thank you, Signor...?" "Carnefice," Reborn informed in response. "Renato Carnefice."

"Renato? 'Reborn'? Ah, so you must be the Reborn my mother talked about." Reborn merely sighed. "Why your mother insists on calling me that, I shall never know." His tone turned serious. "Will she be okay?" Aria nodded. "My mother's strong. She'll make it."

They turned back to the direction of Luche's room, Aria crossing her arms and Reborn leaning against the wall. The others too were watching that closed door, straining to hear past its heavy wood barrier.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before a doctor rushed out of the room, crying out the news that Luche had given birth, and yes, she was well. They all immediately streamed into the room, gathering around Luche's bed.

Said woman was smiling tiredly, gently clutching a small bundle in her arms. "Hello, Aria, everyone." At this Aria immediately launched into what could be counted as a small speech about how worried she was and how it could have affected the baby and how she shouldn't _ever_ do something like that again.

When Aria had finished, Reborn stepped forward a little. "What are you going to name him? Something Japanese, as you mentioned before?"

"Tsunayoshi," came the immediate answer. "His father and I decided on that if the baby were to be a boy." She looked down at the tiny baby. "He'll need all the luck and support he can get for the destiny he has set before him."

The people surrounding grew solemn. One of Luche's visions; if she said so, it must be true. They gazed down at the scrawny boy, some brown hair sticking up on his head. This little boy may have the fate of the world left on his shoulders.

All of them came to the same conclusion at the exact same moment: No matter what, they would try their best to protect the innocent little Tsunayoshi from the horrors that surely lay in his path.

* * *

**I know it was short, but it's the prologue!**

**This is my first KHR fic... This idea had been floating around in my head for a while. The speed of my next update will depend on the responses, so...**

**I will write more for the first chapter, I promise! I'd like to know if I make any character OOC, because I'm not too familiar with this fandom... Comments? Questions? Critique?**

**Ciao ciao!**

**-Tsukai**


	2. Head Up High

**I had planned on updating this next week, but you all inspired me to write like a madman and produce this chapter for you ~**

**Animeangel2798 – I have read a whole lot of stories with Tsuna being adopted by the Arcobaleno, but I'm trying a new take of the universe in general by changing his parentage. I hope this chapter met your expectations!**

**Palmiito – Don't kill me! Here's chapter one, so please spare my life!**

**Someone – I admit, I've read Mafia Row, but there is a major timeskip so it won't be the same. Thanks for your support!**

**Lexie-chan94 – All I can say is wait and see… Is my update 'soon' enough?**

**Final Syai Lunar Generation – Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope I can meet your expectations!**

**Bleach-ed Nat-su – Thank you… Your feedback means a lot to me, especially since I adore your writing… ^-^ I'll try not to make Reborn to OOC the next time I write him.**

**R3iga1004 – Thanks! *bows* I see from your signature that you're a R27 fan. Unfortunately I don't think I'll have any pairings in this story, but I do support R27 nonetheless.**

**Loveless23 - ^-^ Here you go!**

**Ayumu smile – I'm glad you find it interesting. Yes, he will have the same guardians, because I'm not a big fan of OCs.**

**Mangopudding - Yes, Luche is one of my favorite characters... I couldn't bear to kill her off...**

**I enjoyed every single comment! Thank you everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited, please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter One – Head Up High**

One in a Million

Tsuna yawned as he sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Automatically his chocolate brown eyes flicked to the round window, registering the lightening sky outside.

Leaning forward a little, he stared out into the endless expanse of sky stretching far past the edges of his eyesight. He was careful not to nudge the sleeping baby next to him; the white-hatted child was sleeping soundly.

Maybe baby wasn't the right word to describe her, for it was really a grown woman that slept there. Mentally, the 'baby' was indeed such. This was Luche, eighth boss of the Giglio Nero, the sky Arcobaleno; this was Tsuna's mother.

Tsuna smiled softly. He'd never questioned why his mother or any of his 'Uncles' (and 'Aunt') were babies - secretly he'd suspected it had something to do with the colored pacifiers dangling around their necks. He'd grown up seeing them as eternal infants, only having ever seen his mother as an adult in photographs and videos.

He slipped on his orange headphones, turning up the volume of the music. He took a few deep breaths to the steady, pulsing beat. He was flying to Japan right now, to attend an exclusive Mafia private school, and he couldn't help but feel a little jittery. How what he supposed to act? What if he accidentally offended someone?

"It'll be fine," he assured himself, not aware that he'd actually spoken the words aloud. "Everything will be fine. I'll find my guardians, and I can fulfill my promise to Papa."

As he murmured his little mantra, he closed his eyes, not noticing that Luche's blue eyes were watching him inquisitively.

The music seemed to blend and blur into the background as his mind ignored it to drift into scattered thoughts. Tsuna was suddenly jarred from this cloudy monotone by a tap on his shoulder, causing him to jerk towards his mother in surprise, pulling off the headphones to hang around his neck.

"What is it, Mama?"

"Dear, we've arrived in Namimori." Tsuna flushed in slight embarrassment at his inattention, mumbling his thanks and unbuckling the seatbelt that must have been buckled by his mother during his distraction. Allowing Luche to hop onto his shoulder, he cleared the seats, walking down the aisles out of the private plane.

As he walked out of the plane he greeted the black suited men that immediately stepped forward to flank either side of him. They escorted them to a decidedly suspicious black car with tinted windows, and mentally Tsuna sweat-dropped, have hoped not to stand out, but with his luck he shouldn't have even tried.

The car drove away from the large, barren area that seemed to be meant for landing planes. Ah, well, this was a town with a school for Mafioso, so maybe it'd be alright after all. He thanked the men as he stepped out of the car, having reached his destination, watching as it sped off.

He turned around to face what would be his new home for just the week before school started up. Tsuna felt immensely relieved when he saw that it was just your average, everyday house, if not a little bigger with a much more spacious backyard. "Hm, Gamma chose well," Luche commented from his shoulder as they unlocked the door and looked in to see the cozy living room.

There, clumped together on the carpet, lay their luggage, which had been delivered beforehand. His mother hopped off his shoulder to pull along her luggage - with wheels - to her room; conveniently, it was a bungalow, so no troublesome stairs for Luche.

With a small sigh he picked up his bags, bringing them to his own rather large, he saw, bedroom, glancing around at the well-placed furniture, neat bed, pale blue walls and most of all, the giant window.

Tsuna dumped his bags onto the floor, raking a hand through his fluffy locks; immediately after being pulled back, they sprang back to stick up in a haphazard mess of spikes. Walking over to the window, he crossed his arms and rested them on the windowsill, gazing out at the peaceful scenery.

"Welcome to Namimori, Tsuna," he whispered to himself.

* * *

Luche was worried.

Despite Tsuna's exposure to the existence of the Mafia, he was still relatively innocent. Even with this small form, she needed to be there for him, to watch over him and to protect him.

There was a sense of foreboding that she may be unable to shield him from the true darkness of his future, that the black would taint his innocence. Luche was scared for him, her little baby boy that would soon be thrust into a world that no amount of training would prepare him for.

That was why, as of now, she was sneaking out of the house and rounding the blocks to Tsuna's new school: Namimori Shiritsu Gakkō, a school famous in the Mafia for being _the_ Namimori Scuola Privata per i Mafiosi Futuri.

That was exactly why she'd have no problem negotiating with the principal, as one of the Arcobaleno and extremely influential in the Mafia. She hated abusing her authority like this, but it had to be done.

With her petit form she easily climbed and vaulted over the gate, ignoring the blaring alarms. She'd made her presence known on purpose; she could have easily gotten in unnoticed.

Leaping over traps and jumping windows, her slim black ponytail swaying, she made it to the one she was sure belonged to the principal's office, expertly melting the locked side and sliding the window open. "Ciao," she called, making herself known.

She easily donned her business persona, knowing she had to make a proper impression on the principal. Luche hopped straight into the chair before the principal's desk, face serious.

"Ah, the Sky Arcobaleno. What a pleasant surprise," the man began mildly.

"The Young Lion of the Vongola. So this is what you in your spare time." There was a sort of staring contest, neither backing down.

They exchanged a few friendly words, for the sake of creating polite conversation. Unfortunately, this did nothing to warm the frigid atmosphere, the tension so heavy it seemed nearly tangible.

Luche had never liked the Vongola much. They were famous for holding a long bloody history, but what she truly despised them for was that they were blatant _liars_. She had heard time and again the claims that they were doing it for the good of someone else, the well-being of the Family, but they never backed up words with actions.

"How's Lal doing?" Luche inquired. Although she didn't particularly like this rather slippery man, that wasn't going to stop her from asking about her Family.

"She's well."

Iemitsu grew serious. "Cut to the chase, will you? You certainly didn't drop by just to say hello." Luche sighed, blue eyes hardening a little.

"I'd like to teach here."

* * *

Tsuna sighed, tightening the white silk tie about his neck. The uniform was different from classic Mafioso's suit that he had originally expected, instead with a black dress shirt, white pants and a white tie.

Rolling the sleeves up to his elbows and slipping his neon orange headphones around his neck as usual, he noted how boldly they contrasted the uniform as he regarded himself in the mirror. He picked up his bag with a small exhalation, walking to the living room with only socks on his feet.

He was greeted by his mother at the table, who had already finished her breakfast and was sipping at a cup of milk tea. Tsuna sat down, pleasantly surprised to see chocolate chip brioche and a cup of now not-so-hot chocolate waiting at his place.

He sipped at his drink. Italians tended to drink coffee at breakfast, but his mother refused to allow him to do so, seeing as his caffeine tolerance was rather low and that he himself didn't care much for the bitter taste.

Tsuna noted that Luche had exchanged her usual white dress for a black one, with a white stripe instead of orange, though the normal hat and coat remained. "Your dress?" he inquired.

"Oh, about that, I need to dress like this now; I'm teaching at your new school, and a good example must be set."

Tsuna choked on his bread when he heard that, Luche immediately hopping over to thump his back as he coughed. "Are you alright, dear?" It took a while for him to recover.

"I'm fine, mom." Tsuna smiled weakly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" Luche giggled. "Now hurry and finish. We wouldn't want to be late for the first day, would we?" Tsuna nodded, gulping down the last of his food and gathering his things. Waiting for his mother to get her things and hop onto his shoulder, he strolled out, locking the door behind him.

The huge school was just a short walk away. Tsuna gazed up at it in awe, with its sleek modern architecture, large glass windows, and the multiple fields spanning an enormous amount of space. It was truly jaw-dropping, the way the building towered maybe ten stories high looking for all the world like a university and the such.

There, the gates had been flung open, students streaming in. Some were catching up with old classmates, others consulting the pitch black papers with their respective classrooms, rules, and other required information that had been mailed to them beforehand.

Luche had promptly jumped off her comfortable seat on Tsuna's shoulder, disappearing into the sea of students as she weaved around their feet. Tsuna watched as she left, before rummaging through his bag for his black paper.

He smoothed out the creases when he took it out, carefully unfolding it. When he scanned it, he found that the neat white print read: 1st year (Floor 1), Corridor 3, Class B. So the years were assigned to certain floors, he assumed.

He was a first year; in regular school terms, that would be Grade 7. Each year, exactly new 300 students were admitted to the giant school, divided into three corridors and then into 4 classrooms. So that would mean... He thought a bit.

Tsuna would be stuck in a class with 24 complete strangers, not to mention that they could potentially be very aggressive. He blanched; he had still retained a slight fear of meeting new people.

Straightening his back and looking forward, he took a deep breath, mustering his courage as he walked briskly through the halls, consulting the map he clutched like a lifeline. Finally he found the classroom labeled 1-3B, gently pushing open the sliding door and going in.

No one noticed as he entered, making for his assigned desk. He sank into the office-like chair, complemented by a similarly styled office desk and a laptop, unpacking the contents of his bag as his eyes darted around at the room.

Tsuna's eyes flashed a bright orange as he analyzed his new classmates, lips twisting into a grimace. Not much potential here... He glanced at the clock.

Class will start about right... now. Just then, a sharp, yet surprisingly melodic series of rings blared through the intercom. Trust a mafia school to get rid of those harsh, common bells...

Suddenly, the high-backed chair behind the teacher's desk swung around, revealing a baby sitting there. Luche jumped onto her desk, ignoring the murmurs from the students.

"Hello, students of 1-3B. I expect that some of you may recognize me; I am Luche, the Sky Arcobaleno." Her blue gaze swept the class, sending shivers up their spines.

"You are now students of Namimori. You now must live up to expectations: Mine, the school's and the mafia's. I will say that I am strict, but fair, and none of you will fail on my watch." Her pause seemed to leave the words _or else_ hanging in the air.

"Here, you will learn the ways of the Underground. How to fight, how to make deals, and for when it comes down to it, how to kill. The mafia is a dark place, and it is my job to prepare you for it."

"Welcome to Namimori, the Mafia's future."

* * *

**This was 2000+ words…**

**Sorry that this chapter is a little monotone, but that's sort of needed to transition with this giant timeskip. Luche is a little OOC at the end, but she can't really be IC when teaching students to become Mafiosi, ne? **

**This chapter would have been out yesterday, but I got a massive headache…**

**Thank you for your support! The next update may or may not be so soon…**

**Ciao ciao!**

**-Tsukai**


	3. Repainting This Picture

**OMG, I'm sooo sorry! It's been like what, two weeks? I hope you forgive me, and I'll rant on a little more about it at the bottom, so first things first: Reviews!**

**Mangopudding – I'm totally with you on that one. If only…**

**Animeangel2798 – Please be patient, that has to do with eventual plot! Yes, I could see Reborn doing that, but the life of a hitman is a busy one... No, unfortunately, they don't teach (but, well, nevermind) because they're a little occupied…**

**Lexie-chan94 – Again, just wait and see. Sorry I can't really respond!**

**Soul Vrazy – Thanks!**

**Sync94 – Then sorry for the long wait… ^.^' Thanks!**

**Shimphony – I thought I said that? Well, whatever, he's 12.**

**Ayumu smile – They won't be the main antagonists, but they're not exactly good people.**

**Tora-chan83 – As I said, they aren't the bad guys, but aren't the good guys either. Thanks!**

**Chibi'prince-sama – Well, 'Your Highness', I have no idea either.**

**Palmiito – Phew, thank goodness! I really wanted to finish the story too. But now, I must run and hide for fear of you hunting me with pitchforks for the lateness of this chapter! *panics***

**Final Syai Lunar Generation - *from the safety of my secret anti-pitchfork-and-fire shelter* Thanks, and sorry for the lack of baby Tsuna! But he might show up in flashbacks. I'm glad you liked it, and I'm jealous of his headphones too. Luche scares me as well… *cowers***

**Bleach-ed Na-tsu – Thanks lots, to the EXTREME!**

**Taira-keimei – Arigatou, I'm sorry this isn't 'soon' enough!**

**Thanks everyone, I hope this chapter will satisfy, so please enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two – Repainting This Picture**

One in a Million

Tsuna felt utterly disgusted at what he saw.

He had observed his fellow classmates as he blended into the background, staying silent and anonymous. It wasn't too hard a feat to accomplish, seeing as he was rather powerless in the world of the Mafia.

That wasn't completely true. He had unknown influences, but he really wasn't sure that he wanted others to know. Seeing them flocking to those with high standings like moths to a flame as soon as word of their importance reached their ears was truly sickening.

He remembered, on that first day, when everyone took turns introducing themselves. There were the loud and boastful ones proudly stating their high rung on the Mafia's ladder, and before long everyone around them of lower statuses would be kissing up to them, flattering them and showering praises at every chance.

When Tsuna had spoken his own simple introduction he was promptly ignored, everyone staring with adoring eyes at the bigshot that had declared his social standings etc etc right before. There had been a couple sparse claps for him, half-hearted and distracted, and even those not absorbed in ogling the previous student simply stared down at their hands or feet or any object that had suddenly become oh so interesting.

It was then that with Tsuna with perfect clarity envisioned his long-time goal once again; now, the thought came back ever the stronger. He would build his Family from scratch, with all the purpose of the Vongola of Primo's time, and maybe not make a perfect Mafia but a better one to save all those innocent lives that would potentially be lost.

Was that too much to ask for? Apparently. Something told Tsuna things would hit the fan pretty soon with the mafia; it was practically inevitable the way things were going now. He needed to gather his guardians soon if he was to do anything about it.

Tsuna began to spin his office chair in circles as he grumbled quietly to himself, trying desperately to block out the sounds of fake, forced laughter, loud claims, and whispered negativity against the shunned. He closed his eyes, unaware that they had just moments ago maintained a strong, glowing orange.

Mentally groaning, he suppressed the urge to headdesk, sinking his face into the crossed arms he now laid upon the table. It was the period known as Study Hall, when they were left alone to study.

_If this is studying, I'd hate to learn what free time is like,_ Tsuna sighed mentally. The things he'd do for a cup of hot chocolate or at least some chamomile tea right now. With honey. Oh, god…

Suddenly a shadow fell over his desk, a pair of hands slamming harshly against its wood on either side of his laptop to startle him from his internal whining. "Oi, fluffyhead! Are you ignoring me?"

Oh, did he say something? "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I asked you a question, shorty! Who're you?" How could his height be picked on when he was _sitting?_ Yes, he was short, and hated the fact, but how could they tell? Mentally, Tsuna despaired of the cruelty that was nature, before quickly moving his thoughts onto what he was just asked.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Tsuna. Didn't I say, I don't know, a few days ago?" The tall, bulky Mafioso-to-be scowled. "Do you even know who you're talking to, shorty? And I meant your full name, stupid!"

"I thought I quite clearly told you my name, _dear sir_, and the last time I checked, my name was Tsuna, not shorty. Or stupid and fluffyhead, for that matter," he remarked wryly. "I'm just Tsuna by the way, Anonimo-san~"

The blockheaded male looked a mix of confused and angered at his words, not quite understanding the Italian bit or the sarcasm but assuming Tsuna was offending him. "Why you little - !"

"Tsuna," the brunet supplied, "though 'little Tsuna' wouldn't really make sense. Now excuse me, I'll be going. Hopefully you'll grow some 'little gray cells' before I'm back."

Before the idiot – Tsuna really didn't bother learning the Yakuza heir's name, and idiot could probably be his name anyways – could comprehend what Tsuna had just said, he pushed past the ring formed by Idiot-san's posse, his bag carelessly swinging in his loose grip. He slid open the classroom door, before pausing and looking over his shoulder at the people he had just left.

"Arrivederci e buona giornata a te, mia cara signori."

With a smirk and an exaggerated sweep of an imaginary fedora, he exited, sliding the door shut with a bang behind him and walking calmly away.

* * *

A General History of the Mafia and the Great Rise of the Vongola, The Clam's Rise and Reign, The Vindice and the Eternal Laws of the Mafiosi, Ancient Family Bloodlines…

Tsuna sighed as browsed through the shelves of books in the library. He hated having to pull out the sly personality adapted from his one and only Uncle Reborn, but he had to admit, it was amusing seeing the reactions, plus it felt rather satisfying to _finally_ be able to pull his uncharacteristic inner cynicism out.

But, part of him defended mentally against the embracing and forgiving part, they had it coming. That student's ego was so big Tsuna was surprised that his head wasn't bloated yet, nevermind that Tsuna actually knew who he was despite pretending not to.

Heir of the Kamikaze, a prominent yakuza gang in Japan; the very top of the food chain here. They were a bit jealous of the Vongola, as they were small fry compared to the clams, but obeyed out of fear.

Some backbone they had.

He ran his fingers along the row of books, feeling the indentations upon their spines proclaiming their various titles. The feeling of smooth bamboo binding and well-worn leather was pleasant, nearly distracting him from finding the book he was searching for.

"Aha!" He fingered the volume he had been hunting down, with its soft, old red leather and gold leaf tooled title. "The Allied Families," he mumbled to himself. The first edition, one out of a total of only nine original copies, written and then reproduced eight more times by Primo's right hand man, G.

Tsuna had ignored all of the third party copies. They were, no doubt, edited for various purposes and would never ring as true as the originals. He slipped the book out from its comfortable slot, opening it carefully and thumbing a couple pages lightly. The thin, yellowed pages, the carefully and beautifully penned words, and the unmistakable smell of musty paper, leather and ink greeted him.

As a shameless bookworm, the scent was wonderful. He inhaled, smiling, before digging into his bag to pull out a newer, obviously much more modern book. On its cover, the words 'The Allied Families: 9th Edition' was professionally printed above the Vongola crest ringed by a number of smaller crests.

Snapping the original book shut, he held the two books side by side, comparing them with a critical eye. The newer version was put together and proofread by Coyote Nougat, Nono's right hand. Briefly he pondered, guessing that in each new generation of Vongola, the storm and right hand was required to write up the newest edition.

Tsuna ambled over to the self-serve checkout computer, swiping his card and pausing as he thought what book name to substitute. He chose a perfectly innocent title he'd spotted on his way into the section for the rarer and more informative books, typing it in quickly.

He all but dashed out of the library, bidding the security guard a hasty farewell. Thankfully, Tsuna was trusted enough not to have his card and self checked for stolen books, allowing him to make it back to class more quickly and hopefully on time.

He barrelled – gracefully – down the hallways, nearly missing a couple sharp turns. Curse the size of the school, plus the fact the library was on the _top floor_…

Tsuna swore mentally, using words that he should be much too young to know, as he found the elevators were on much lower floors and would take an eternity to get to him. He entered the stairwell, skipping steps on his way down and nearly crashing into someone.

"Hie, sorry!" he called back distractedly as he sped down, not catching much of the figure except for a flash of cold grey eyes that could easily be compared to the chilly gleam of metal. Finally he reached the door with a giant one stamped upon it, turning the cool handle and bursting into the first floor's corridor.

Speed-walking past turns into the smaller sub-corridors, he turned to Corridor 3. But as he began to rush in, he crashed into someone, just barely maintaining his balance.

Taking a few hurried steps backs so not to topple backwards onto the ground, he took a good look at who he had crashed into. "Gomen ne…" Tsuna began, eyes scanning and analysing who he'd just bumped into.

Tsuna noted short, spiky black hair, an obviously Japanese complexion, and a bright grin. The noted individual rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, smile not reaching his brown eyes. Tsuna recognized him as one of his classmates.

"…Yamamoto-san."

* * *

A young boy grins up from his chunky toy blocks, chubby fingers spreading out in a friendly wave. His brown eyes light up eagerly at the sight of his playmate. "Takeshi! You're here!"

The black-haired boy grins back sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry I'm late, Tsuna. Hey, what do you want to do first?" Tsuna frowns, before breaking out into a smile. "Let's go check on what mom and dad are doing. I think they do what your parents do, whatever that is!"

Takeshi's smile can only grow wider. "Sure! Spying, like a game, right?" Tsuna nods vigorously. "Let's go."

They stumble through the halls, trying to stay silent as they creep to the room where their parents were talking. The pair strains to hear what the four adults are discussing, catching snippets of conversation.

"Children… young…. Mafia…"

"Hits… secret…"

"Bloody… dark… away…"

Tsuna frowns. "Ne, Takeshi. What's the Mafia? It's a game, right?"

Takeshi smiles, carefree, yet it is slightly forced. "Yeah… a game." His brown eyes darken. He knows it probably isn't, but Tsuna couldn't know… He is too pure. No matter what, Takeshi would keep the dark truth away so as not to dim that light.

* * *

Tsuna calls out into the kitchen. "Mom, I'm going out to meet Takeshi and Kyoko!" From within, his mother's distracted voice calls back, "Okay, Tsu-kun, be safe!"

"I will!" The spike-haired brunette glances blissfully around as he steps out. It is the weekend, and he had made plans to meet up with his best friends, Takeshi and Kyoko. With an air of finality, he steps out onto the sidewalk, taking the long-memorized route to their favorite sushi shop, which so happens to belong to Takeshi's father.

As he walks, pace even, a hand suddenly shoots out to cover Tsuna's mouth, another moving to grip his wrists. He finds himself tugged into a dark, dead-ended space, surrounded by gray brick walls and a small handful of suspicious looking men.

"Is it him?" One man asks. Another nods. "Think so." The first man sneers. "Doesn't look like much, the brat." A kick is aimed at his side, and so Tsuna lets out a small pained cry.

"Just hurry up and kill him!" A handful of fluffy brown hair is fisted, a knife held tightly against his neck. Tsuna screams, and before he knows it, the knife clatters to the floor and the man is knocked out. Everything is a blur, and it isn't long until they all lie unconscious, sporting minor burns.

Suddenly, someone runs into the alleyway, sounding panicked. "Tsuna? I heard you scream, and then…" Takeshi trails off as he takes in the scene, Tsuna's flames shrinking away and his eyes turning a warm brown.

The fluffy-headed boy turns to look innocently, expression bewildered. "Takeshi? What… What happened?"

In that moment, to Takeshi, the vibrant world dulls to nothing but grays.

* * *

Stacks upon stacks of paperwork hide Tsuna from view. Cautiously, Takeshi inches around the desk, moving to stand before Tsuna. "Boss?"

Tsuna gives him a dismissingly cold orange glance. 'What is it, Piogga?" Takeshi's heart clenches, mouth drying up almost instantly. He licks his lips. "Um, there's someone here to see you, Boss."

Tsuna nods, waving him away. "If that's all, send them in, will you?" Takeshi nods back, walking out and refusing to meet Tsuna's gaze. That… isn't the Tsuna he once knew. That's someone else, someone he doesn't recognize.

He didn't exactly lie about there being someone to see him. There is no one wanting to meet 'Boss', but there is someone there looking for 'Tsuna'. He, Takeshi, is looking Tsuna somewhere within that person he calls Boss. But now, he's not so sure if that person still exists.

Taking a deep breath, he re-enters Tsuna's office. Tsuna looks up, expression twisting into irritation. "Well? Where are they?" Takeshi doesn't respond.

"Didn't you hear me? I don't have all day-" Tsuna is cut off as he gasps, slouching and clutching his chest. Blood leaks crimson through his fingers, dripping from around the katana Takeshi had plunged into his lung.

"They're right here, _Tsuna_." Takeshi's mouth forms a hard line. "But you're not Tsuna, are you?"

"You're my _subordinate_, Takeshi, what are you doing?" Tsuna chokes out, blatantly ignoring the rhetorical question. "I'm not your subordinate, I'm Tsuna's. You have no right to call me by my given name." At that, Takeshi pulls out the sword and shoves it through Tsuna's heart.

And as Takeshi leaves the dead Tsuna slumped over his paperwork, an almost maniacal glint enters his eyes. Finally, finally the world regains an unholy, twisted light, and it colors a bright, beautiful crimson.

* * *

**This is longer than the last chapter! And to make up for the delay, I'll try to make the next chapter extra long for you.**

**Life sort of got in the way, so I couldn't write, but thankfully I did something semi-productive in that wasted time! I reorganized the plot, and now it flows much better.**

**Sorry if you got confused by the last bit, that'll be cleared up eventually!**

**Phew! I got that over with. Some characters introduced here! Well, hope you enjoyed!**

**Thank you again for the reviews/alerts/favorites, it was really inspiring because I was kind of stuck with this chapter, then it just flowed out… Hopefully the next chapter will be out soon, maybe next week? Please tell me if you find any mistakes, this is unbeta'ed!**

**Ciao ciao!**

**-Tsukai**


	4. Delirious

**Kay, sorry sorry sorry! *hides* My reason/explanation is at the bottom…**

**From now on, I'll only respond to reviews I actually have a valid answer for, okay? It doesn't mean I don't appreciate your review if I don't reply!**

**In general, sorry for the confusion, this chapter _might_ clear things up a little. Thank you so much, everyone, each review had me grinning like a maniac. I'm glad you liked it and found it interesting, and yes, Tsuna is awesome.**

**Speculation is very welcome, especially as it may cause me to leak future plot details, and no matter how long it takes to update, I will never ever _ever_ abandon this story.**

**Here you go, please enjoy! Thank you for all reviews, alerts and favorites!**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Delirious**

One in a Million

"... Yamamoto-san."

"Sorry to you too... Tsuna? That is your name, right?" At Tsuna's nod, he continued. "And drop the 'san', that's too formal. I mean, we're classmates, right?" Yamamoto plastered on his grin, holding out a hand.

Tsuna seemed to hesitate, before grasping the hand firmly. "Yeah, we are." He felt a hint of surprise that Yamamoto had remembered his name. But after all, he hadn't labeled Yamamoto Takeshi's file with a 'Has Potential' for nothing.

He fancied himself a good judge of character, as he had long been able to differentiate those of pure intentions and those of darker ones at a glance; a skill slowly honed with the help of those he grew up around. His father, his mother, Reborn-jii, his mysterious 'invisible friend', Gamma-san... The list went on.

But Yamamoto... There was something off about him. It wasn't the way he would smile so plastically or the darkened look that would occasionally shadow his gaze. It wasn't even the strange way the boy closed himself off despite acting so welcoming.

There was something terribly wrong with it all. Maybe it was in the scar on his chin, or in the kanji 苦しむ, 'kurushimu', written on his right palm with scars and the small x slashed onto his left. Maybe it was in the strange way he would sometimes stare at Tsuna when he thought he couldn't see.

Also, on top of that, Yamamoto Takeshi looked strangely, almost suspiciously, familiar. That shade of strong brown - with that pronounced, Japanese shape - in his eyes. The spiked black hair, with the white band sometimes tied around his forehead, and the sword Tsuna recognized as the legendary Shigure Kintoki swinging by Yamamoto's side.

Tsuna smiled brightly to dismiss the thought. "We should go back to class, shouldn't we?" he commented absently, receiving a nod in agreement from his classmate. The two turned back towards their classroom, walking in silence.

As Tsuna entered the classroom behind Yamamoto, watching as the taller Japanese boy returned to his seat with a cheery greeting to the others in the classroom, a single thought crossed his mind.

"If he knew class was starting, where had Yamamoto been going?"

Red. Bright brown eyes, drowned in red.

* * *

Takeshi has always known of the Mafia.

His parents have never tried to hide it from him. They knew he would, in the end, end up somehow involved with it, or at least, with the Yakuza. His father, a famous ex-free-lance assassin, and his mother, a Yakuza boss' third daughter, were so immerged in the Underground that it was impossible to withdraw, even though they are now retired.

But, they have always told him, even though he knows of this dark world, he must never stop smiling. He must embrace the light. He has tried, and he has succeeded, finding his light within those he holds dear, but it is hard to keep that light bright and pure.

So the first time the light disappeared, he panics. Where… Where did it go? Everything was dull, bland, meaningless. He wants, desperately, to recover that light, that shine. He searches, and when he can't find it, he sinks up to his ears into the black pitch of his despair.

And soon, all he can think is, _Tsuna made that light disappear_. Tsuna, Tsuna Tsuna. When he looks at his boss, he sees stars. Black swirls the gray. Tsuna made the light go away. Tsuna did. It becomes a mantra in his head.

Nothing seems right anymore. He is haunted by sleepless nights and when he can sleep, he sees red. Tsuna, lying dead, and everything is bright and almost surreal. It's beautiful, he starts to think.

Every time he closes his eyes, that's what he sees. Afterimages glow in his vision. He has fallen in love with that dizzying light, the light he sees when he dreams. He reaches for it, but it always slips from his fingers.

Whenever he manages to touch it, to brush his fingers against it, vertigo shoots through him. It throbs almost painfully, but he soon finds himself addicted to that feeling. He wants to feel it again. Again.

When he sits down at his desk, his cold, clammy fingers clutch the pen like a lifeline. He can't form a coherent thought, and a cold chill runs up his spine. The world freezes, like a photo, and there is buzzing and silence and the echoing words of _Kill Tsuna_ are dark in his closed-off canyon.

As quick as it came, the stupor flashes away, and Takeshi feels guilt. He can't kill Tsuna. Tsuna is his friend. He doesn't notice that on his paper, in blue ink, he has sketched the image of his nights.

He wants to go see Tsuna. Maybe that will calm him. He stands up abruptly, walking out into the halls. He can't see clearly, everything blurs, and he muses, briefly, that he needs a cigarette. Tsuna's office door is open, so he enters without a thought.

Paperwork. That's all he can see, and he desperately wants to catch a glimpse of Tsuna's face. But orange, orange, eyes, and that's not Tsuna. Tsuna has sweet, brown eyes. He remembers so clearly.

The fumes rising lightly from an ashtray outline the colors he sees in thin, hard grey. He inhales, and it clears. "Boss?" He is hesitant.

The cold, orange eyes make him remember empty brown, the flame fading away in eternal sleep. "What is it, Piogga?" The harsh words snap him to what he sees before him. He feels a clench and _breathe_, breathe. His mouth dries, so he licks his lips.

"Um," he is unsure what to say, "there's someone here to see you, boss."

A motion. It's a nod, he thinks. "If that's all, send them in, will you?" Takeshi nods, too scared of what he'll see if he looks at Tsuna's eyes again. And suddenly, he remembers the drug, the light, of his dream. He is hungry for it.

He can't kill Tsuna, Tsuna is his friend. But, but. That's not Tsuna. That's Boss. Boss isn't his friend. He fights of a crooked smile. He wants to find those brown eyes buried under glowing orange, and maybe he can see that if Boss goes away. That is, if Tsuna hasn't long left him yet.

Tsuna's gone. He's been abandoned. That fills his mind as he returns to the room. This time, the smoke has faded, and it wouldn't have jolted him awake anyways. "Well, where are they?" He hears, but his mind has gone too far away to give him a response.

"Didn't you hear me?" And again, everything is in freeze-frame. This time, Takeshi doesn't hesitate to listen to the voice. Tsuna? Who's Tsuna? Right, Tsuna's gone. Boss can bring him back. But Boss needs to leave first…

"I don't have all day-" Shigure Kintoki flashes from its sheath, and then a gasp. Red. Liquid red. He loves the now familiar sight, the colored river.

"_They're right here, Tsuna." Takeshi's mouth forms a hard line. "But you're not Tsuna, are you?"_

"_You're my subordinate, Takeshi, what are you doing?" Tsuna chokes out, blatantly ignoring the rhetorical question. "I'm not your subordinate, I'm Tsuna's. You have no right to call me by my given name."_

Takeshi feels like he's not in his body anymore. From the recesses of his mind, he watches himself speak, respond. He can't comprehend what he's saying, he's too high, but he can sense his numb fingers pulling out the sword from Boss' lung and thrusting it cleanly into his heart.

He can see Tsuna bent over his paperwork, and his heart soars. Those beautiful, brown eyes. He hasn't seen those in… How long? He doesn't remember. But he doesn't care, the high is beautiful. He is so giddy he can't hear anything but again that constant buzz.

His eyes glint in crazed, intoxicated joy, for he is delighted. He is delighted, because the gray and black and dulled-down white is gone in favor of _color_. Finally he has his light back. The red tint goes unnoticed, purity, what purity? The dirtied light is his everything, _everything_, now that he has a light again.

He embraces it.

* * *

Tsuna sat on the bench, legs crossed. His chin was propped up on his fist as he watched the class stretching to warm up.

It was gym class. But for Mafiosi, gym class meant it was time to show of your skills and strength and prowess and whatnot. Gym meant sparring matches and weapons practice and target practice. Gym meant weightlifting and showing muscles and touching up your skills.

Gym meant exposure.

He wasn't ready for that. The thing was, you were forced to use your full potential. The teachers would settle for no less. No matter if you were trying to keep your ace in the hole, you'd be forced to expose it all.

That would ruin everything. He's been keeping anonymous, keeping basically everything about himself under wraps. Otherwise, his plan would run into quite a few very unwelcome speed bumps.

Thank goodness, then, that the gym instructor – or rather drill sergeant – was the one and only Lal Mirch. He'd met up and talked to his Lal-nee a good while ago, and she was the same as ever. Thankfully she had let him off the hook, but only after extracting a promise that he would train under her supervision in his spare time, most probably the weekends.

But gym class allowed him to observe his fellow classmates, and distinct the talented from the not-so-talented. It allowed for classifying the bluffers and fakes as well as the worthy enemies. It allowed for recognizing the potential threats of future attacks.

The ones he had his eyes on were the ones without any affiliation with a Family; Tsuna had already identified a few he was watching for their skills. They were scattered about a large variety of training stations, showing off their skills, some in a modest manner and others with a lot of flair and ego.

Konohara Ai was a freelance hitwoman that was both snobby and had a high sense of superiority. Fighting 'elegantly' with a crossbow that Tsuna easily recognized as a poor imitation of Vongola Ottavo's favoured weapon, it was easy to see from her dyed black hair with blond peeking at its roots and the golden contacts she wore that she was a cocky copy of the late Daniela.

She was highly skilled with her weapon, that was true, but he could tell she had had few kills, and had yet to see the darker side of the Mafia. She was still naive, and her wake up call would shake her deeply. The question was whether or not she could recover and grow from it.

Then, on the other hand, was a young, shy boy, clearly not comfortable with close combat. But soon, he was proved a lethal adversary with shurikens and with his preferred weapon, a sniper rifle.

Despite his innocent-looking features plumped with left over baby-fat and his petit, almost fragile frame, his eyes held a dark wariness and a tired look that seemed to say, _I've seen too much_. However, Tsuna was keeping away from this boy and keeping him off his stack of Has Potential files because he could see that this long weak young male would soon crack from the emotional stress and guilt.

And then… There was Yamamoto Takeshi.

It was there, right before his eyes. Tsuna peered intently past the speechless spectators, all arrogance gone from their expressions. Smoothly, Yamamoto executed a move with a whisper of something Tsuna couldn't quite hear from his location in the gym, slicing the practice dummy into a pile of tattered and beaten-looking chunks.

Immediately after the initial speechlessness, people rushed forward, propelling into fast-paced, amicable conversation, edging the questions of who are you and what sword style is that and are you with any Family? Join mine. Tsuna pressed a hand to his throat, resisting the urge to retch.

Darkness. Swimmingly, darkness hides within orange

* * *

Tsuna has always thought the world was beautiful.

It is bright. Everything seems so wonderful, so delightful, and he has never once understood the lies light brings. Ignorance is bliss? Bliss, until when everything is at its best, black emerges from white.

Tsuna is scared of black. He hates it, isn't everything light? Black? Black belongs far, far away. Black isn't supposed to be here. It can't be, he won't let it.

So he prances in his delusion. And when black springs, clamps over his mouth, pulls him into darkness and pulls a knife, Tsuna tries to imagine the black away, tries to pretend its orange. Orange, orange. Orange is bright, isn't angry as red or blinding as yellow.

And when the orange fades, black is gone. Black is _dead_. Good, he says. And when Takeshi bursts into the alley, and his pretty brown eyes loose its light, Tsuna thinks about _light, light_. They have to have light, or else everything will collapse in.

Light, light. Hm? What's that? Mafia? It's pretty, and bright, right? It has to be. It has to be, or else it has to go away. Like black. So everything is fine.

They tell him that he needs to say bye bye to people, because they're bad, they did bad things, naughty naughty. Does that mean they're black? Then they need to go away. Orange, and then black went away again.

Black keeps visiting. Black visits more and more, so orange, again, more, always. When orange fights black, he doesn't know, doesn't know what's going on. But after orange, lights go on.

Orange-san is an adult. Orange-san acts just like them, business-y and older. Orange-san talks to Tsuna sometimes, says things, he doesn't remember what. But it made him warm and fuzzy, and one day, he goes to bed, and dreams. The dream never stops.

Maybe Orange is still fighting black, then. Who cares. The dream is all pretty. Everyone smiles, and it's just like the old days. Right? Right?

He talks to Takeshi in his dream-world. Wait, when was the last time he talked to Takeshi? Orange has, lots. Doesn't matter, right? As long as everything's nice and good. As long as black stays away. Black is scary. It's not allowed here. Right? Right? He's right, right?

"_Boss?"_

"_What is it, Piogga?" _

"_Um, there's someone here to see you, Boss."_

Nod. _"If that's all, send them in, will you?"_

Nod.

"_Well? Where are they?" _

Silence.

"_Didn't you hear me? I don't have all day-"_ Gasp. Pain.

Blood.

"_They're right here, Tsuna." Pause. "But you're not Tsuna, are you?"_

"_You're my subordinate, Takeshi, what are you doing?" _

"_I'm not your subordinate, I'm Tsuna's. You have no right to call me by my given name."_

And then, black. The dream is gone, he claws at the darkness in fear. He hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Go away! Orange, no more orange. Where are you? Where did orange go?

All there is left is black.

* * *

Yamamoto was rather, well, pissed.

Why? Well, the lecherous bastards disguised as his classmates, for one. They had hated him. They had ignored him. They had looked down on him, because he smiled, and so they assumed he was immature, not a Mafioso.

Oh, how he wished he wasn't a Mafioso. Because then, his family couldn't be Mafiosi either, and his mother wouldn't have died. She wouldn't have been killed by the stupid Vongola because the clams thought she knew too much to be left to retire.

Had they ever, even for a second, thought that she had family, not Family, to return to? Had they ever considered that she had done nothing wrong, had done nothing to betray them, and that she most likely never would?

She was a smiler, just like him. Her smile was as beautiful as she was deadly. He was proud of his mother, and then they took her away from him.

He was vengeful. He was bitter. He hated the Mafia, and all its wrongs. What he had seen so far at Namimori had only increased that hatred, especially, as he had said, his classmates, who only became 'friends' with those that could benefit them.

They wanted him in their Family, huh? Well, he wasn't about to join them. The Mafia was dark and wrong and he hated it, hated it all. He hated all the Mafiosi, who were unjust, uncaring. Maybe… Maybe he should just join an unknown, small-time Family just to piss them off?

As his gaze scanned the room, his eyes fell upon the spiky haired boy he had bumped into days before. He wasn't bad, he recollected, well, compared to the rest. But he had that Mafia feel about him; he would be no better than the rest.

He would serve Yamamoto's purpose, though, and they were acquainted, so it'd be pretty simple. Plus, he'd be able to answer one constant question: Why was he so familiar? And how come – although he tried to deny it – he felt a magnetic pull to the enigmatic boy?

That time, when he had bumped into Tsuna, he had originally felt strangely compelled to go outside into the hallway, as if something – or someone – was there, calling to him. Was it the mysterious brunet? But he, too, had seemed surprised at seeing and bumping into Yamamoto.

With a sigh he stood up. It was now or never, then, in order to answer his questions. Walking over to the boy's – Tsuna's, that is – desk, he continually hovered there until Tsuna looked up, mild surprise briefly decorating his expression. "Hm? What is it?"

"Hey!" Yamamoto flashed the best casual grin he could muster up. "Can I join your Family?"

* * *

井の中の蛙大海を知らず。

A frog in a well does not know the great sea.

* * *

**A/N: OMG, exactly 3,000 words! Did that make up for the huge wait?**

**The reason it took so long is a number of things, but two big things is one, I have to organize time for writing in my new schedule, and two, as an author, I just got attacked by plot bunnies. Hm, like, *counts* five different ideas? And surprisingly, they're all yaoi… -guiltyface- They may go up at some point, please keep an eye out for them!**

**I've not much to say but hope you've enjoyed, and please drop a review!**

**Ciao ciao!**

**-Tsukai**


	5. In Another Kind of Obscurity

**Okay, this was supposed to be out last week, but I kind of forgot to post it…**

**Thank you reviewers, favoriters and alerters! (Did that make sense?).**

**Thanks for the reviews, again! It was only five, but I cherished them all the same. I'll attempt to make the next chapter longer than this one.**

**ZacharyStella – No, sorry, I'm not going to re-explain them more clearly. I understand it was confusing and abstract, but, within all my authorly rights, I had made it confusing on purpose while also revealing a bit of plot-related foreshadowing.**

**Luving Randomness – Your review made my day. No, made my week. I was grinning so wide, I was afraid that my face was going to split in half. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! All that stuff is going to make a comeback soon.**

**Please enjoy! (I wasn't quite satisfied with this chapter.)**

* * *

**Chapter Four – In Another Kind of Obscurity**

_One in a Million_

The streets are cold and bare.

Snowflakes drift gently to the ground, settling in beds of white. The silvery cobbled streets are cleared, frozen, empty; there is no one. He is alone.

The night sky glimmers with fading stars. Concrete gray houses line both sides of the road neatly, width and height greatly varying, dark slated roofs flat and blurred with the sky.

There are no doors, only sleek, horizontal, oval windows. The windows are unbarred, but a sheet of glass seems to be locked to the window's bottom ledge. A large, sturdy steel padlock hangs, taunting him, yet he cannot feel any emotions, any feelings brimming up.

Instead of a keyhole, a small indentation rests in the center of the metal chunk; an oval with… What was that? Designs extend from the oval. The metal is cold, the feeling numbing his fingers as he brushes them against the lock. He steps back, wary, as the chill climbs up his arm.

From within the houses, he can see… Memories? He doesn't recognize them, though. They are colored, much unlike the black, white, grays and silvers of the little street.

But what draws him is, at either end of the streets, the light. One is warm and flickering, the other steady, silent, assured. He approaches the warm light, as it seems so welcoming. So inviting.

Although the light never grows nearer, the scenery changes. The night seems more of a pleasant, midnight blue, galaxies of stars swirling its expanse.

The gray houses slowly start to tint, those houses with, their small, delicate locks, glowing with memories that seem to belong to another, and when the colors become bold, solid shades of the rainbow, the houses no longer have locks nor glass. When he approaches one, there are no scenes inside, instead a blinding white light.

He shuts his eyes, as the light hurts, and reaches out to touch the white. When he makes contact, a strong, core-shaking emotion rumbles through him: Confusion.

The next house over produces anger, the next glee, and so on until emotions both positive and negative have resonated through his bones. And abruptly, the houses are white, with no windows, no anything, just smooth walls.

And although a long stretch of white walls and paling twilight sky still continues, out of the blue, there is a single black house, on his right. It has, unfamiliarly, a white door with a rounded top. He reaches for the glowing brass handle, turns it, and then -

Brown eyes.

* * *

Tsuna's eyes snapped open to look up into intense brown eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear his mind of his confusing dream, he wondered, briefly, how Yamamoto had known to find him at his favorite napping spot: Among the ferns and grass and by the lotuses in the small pond, all of the school's rooftop terrace.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, realizing with a hint of surprise that his bright headphones were still softly blasting music into his ears. Pulling his neon-painted MP3 out of his pocket, he pressed pause and slung the headphones around his neck.

Turning his attention to Yamamoto, Tsuna shot a drowsy look to the Japanese hitman. "Oh. Hello. Didn't think I'd meet you up here, Yamamoto-san."

"Yamamoto," came the automatic correction. "I just…" Yamamoto sat down next to Tsuna. "You know what, never mind. It's not important."

A silence stretched between them. An energy drink was nudged into Yamamoto's hand, and was it just him, or had he caught a trace of a warm smile on Tsuna's face? No, it couldn't be, he brushed off. It must have been his imagination.

Tsuna tossed back a mouthful of iced tea, licking his lips lightly and musing aloud, "The sky's so blue today."

Yamamoto turned to look at him in surprise. The brunet hadn't said a word of the Mafia to him since he had accepted the sword fighter into his Family, whichever one that was. Their conversations had been littered with empty remarks such as this one.

"Why is it blue? It looks like it's lying, don't you think?" Tsuna glanced briefly at his silent companion before his eyes flicked back up to regard the sky. "The sky is colorless, embracing the colors of the weather's moods."

There was a pause before the mysterious… boss – Yamamoto assumed – continued. "It's almost as if he feels like favoring the blue of rain today."

It took a while for him to realize that Tsuna was staring intently at him, a flicker of… orange, he thought, dancing in his brown eyes. What did he mean, _he_ felt like favoring the rain today? The sky wasn't a… person…

Yamamoto hesitated. The rain, blue. The sky… His vision flashed with a single color... Orange?

"By the way, Yamamoto-kun, my family's name is Mimo."

Kun? Yamamoto-_kun_? The shock coursing his veins distracted him as Tsuna silently slipped away.

It was only after that did Yamamoto realize that Tsuna had somehow known to answer a question he himself had left unasked.

* * *

"Takeshi!"

The shout is desperate, torn from a woman, her delicate features wrapped with a faded off-white scarf. Her dress is torn and mud-caked at the hem, the result of having been caught on numerous rocks.

The woman had been clutching the hand of her five year old son, but he had slipped and fallen on the muddy ground. The young boy rubs away tears, hiccupping, smearing the mud under his eyes.

He pushes himself off the ground, stumbling after his mother. Holding Takeshi's small hand tightly within her own, the woman pulls the boy along as they flee through the dark, dripping alleys.

Takeshi sneaks a look behind them. In the misted air of post-rain, he can just make out a couple dark silhouettes against the haze. He nearly jumps as a gunshot startles him, whistling past as his mother jerks him away from it.

Frightened, he trembles and his feet splash loudly in the mud-tinted puddles. They try to run faster, but Takeshi's short legs and tired limbs won't allow for it. Deftly, his mother sweeps him up in her arms and struggles to run.

They make a sharp turn, the woman's hair unraveled from its bun to frame her face in limp, disheveled strands. Takeshi whips his head to look around, seeing nothing but dull, brick walls.

The sight becomes meaningless, burning into his memory. The crisp, refreshing after-rain smell is no longer so refreshing. The smell is sickening, and it makes him want to gag.

Suddenly, his mother skids to a halt. Looming, a wall is before them; a dead end. Panicking, she looks frantically around, finding no escape.

There is a small door leading to a cellar, but the cellar goes nowhere. Urging Takeshi into the space and telling him to _hide_, hide himself away, she stands there boldly waiting for their pursuers.

The cellar is cold and smells of mold and damp wood. He curls up, shivering, and he can hear angry feet and loud, brash yells. It is a man's voice, grating and unfamiliar.

He clamps his palms over his ears, fear unsettling him as he sobs silently. He tries to shut out the raging screams, and nowhere does he hear the soft, reassuring voice belonging to his mother.

There is a gunshot, loud. He jumps a little, and has to muffle his wail of despair with his hands when he hears a thump. There are muttered words, a kick, and the patter of footsteps fading away.

It is an eternity until he finally gathers the courage to peek out of the cellar door. Slowly, hesitantly, he approaches and opens it a crack to peek out with an eye.

He lets out a gasp, an inhale of shock, holding his small hand to his mouth.

And all he can do is sob desperately, breaking down and letting out pained cries as he collapses to the ground. Opening the door and crawling out, he bends down by his mother's cold body, her eyes closed and looking as if sleeping, except for the bleeding wound in the center of her forehead.

Carefully crossing her stiff arms over her chest, he lets himself cry freely as his tears mingle with her blood. Looking up at the sky, he smiles bitterly, ironically, an expression unbefitting of a six year old.

The sun is shining.

* * *

Mimo, Mimo, Mimo… Yamamoto's fingers flew across the keyboard in his effort to find information, any information, on the unknown Family he'd joined. Mimo. The common search engines turned up nothing but its definition.

Mime? What? He pushed it out of his mind. Stop procrastinating, he chided himself. So, Mimo. No legal company cover. No wanted crime organization. No small-time shady business. Nothing.

Even now, as he scanned the Mafia database he had dug into, he could find nothing. With a sigh, he left, cleaning up his tracks but not caring to patch up the wound he had stabbed into the firewall.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. It was irritating, and he could feel his patience wearing thin.

Finally, something! His eyes flit eagerly from side to side as he read what was on the screen.

Yamamoto blinked in the sheer white glow illuminating his face. That was it? _That was it?_ With a growl of sudden frustration, he slammed a fist against the wood of the desk.

Then who was Sawada Tsunayoshi? And what was this Mimo Famiglia?

* * *

Gokudera scowled as he trudged through the hallways, kicking at whatever was unfortunate enough to be on the ground. Suddenly he stopped, feeling wind as someone sweeps past him towards the next class over.

He scowled yet again. Who was that? He turned abruptly to whomever it was, prepared to start yelling angrily, when a sudden movement startled him.

Two people had apparently bumped into each other. The conversation was casual; all he could see of the careless boy was a head of spiky, fluffy brown hair. Craning his neck, he attempted to catch a glimpse of the stranger's face.

When the head turned a little, Gokudera was given that desired glimpse, but what he saw froze his heartbeat for a second. Vongola! Vongola… Primo?

No… It couldn't be. As he mindlessly entered his classroom, 1-3A, he went to his desk and sat down automatically. Primo had died – what, four hundred years ago?

An angry frown crossed his features. An imposter. An imitator. How dare they, trying to copy the man who founded the Vongola, the man who was his idol? Never mind the fact that the Vongola had long strayed from the path Primo had set, the path chosen in a frame of mind that Gokudera admired.

He had grown up in the Mafia. He had run away from his family at a young age because his father had committed a Sin, murdering an innocent – his birth mother – in cold blood. Something Vongola Primo would not approve.

His mother, gentle, beautiful; the loving female pianist that had long ago taught him the beauty of music, of fingers dancing across ivory and ebony keys. His fingers clenched. He admired her, too, and fancied that Primo himself would admire her headstrong will.

He remembered when he had first, at nine years old, run from home, and had been taken in by a mysterious, kindly old man. From that man – who had been strangely devoid of wrinkles – he had heard stories of the great deeds done by the first Vongola boss; and it was then he decided he wanted to be like him.

And so he had set out to find a worthy Family, to fight his way to the top, to finish what Vongola Primo had four centuries ago started. It was his dream, and one of his two life goals; the other goal was to avenge his mother's demise.

He would begin with the imposter, and teach him a lesson. A lesson of Primo's greatness and how he would never be able and was not worthy enough to try and imitate Vongola the first.

With that thought in mind, he determinedly looked down at his work.

* * *

A man with bright blond hair and glowing orange eyes watched on, concealed from human sight. In another place, they'd be just like his own guardians. But here, everything was different.

Everything was going to fall apart.

And if they didn't overcome the odds, bring it back together, that other place wouldn't be around much longer.

With a sigh of frustration, he ran a hand through his spiked hair. This was going to be the trial of their lives. And if they didn't make it… He didn't want to finish that thought.

With one last glance back, he turned and walked away, slowly fading into nothingness with every step he took.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully I'll have the next chapter done next week – although that seems unlikely if I can't find inspiration or time.**

**Gokudera made his debut!**

**If it's not out next week, it'll be out the week after that. Updates may become bi-weekly.**

**Ciao ciao!**

**-Tsukai**


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